Monday, February 2, 2009

Class Blogs & Blog Guidelines

Fall 2009



Spring 2009



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Blog Guidelines

Blog entry: minimum 350 words per entry.
Blog reply: minimum 100 words per reply.


There is much to think about when it comes to the world of food and drink. Consider the edible world with which we come in contact on a daily basis, not just that which we consume but, too, that which is consumed around us. Think about the languages, the terms, the overall discourse we have created to talk about the things we put into our bodies. Consider holiday foods versus everyday foods. Fast food versus gourmet. Diners versus street vendors. What categorizes a food or drink? What makes a burger gourmet and not junk? Why do we eat hotdogs at baseball games and movies? Why do we eat tend to eat whole turkeys once a year? And who’s eating all this food? In general, how do food and drink inform us as Americans culturally? What do the two reveal about us as a people, a nation, a member of the world community? How do they unite us? Divide us? Embarrass us? Make us proud? How do food and drink define us? Your blogs will be a place for you to explore some of these questions throughout the semester.


1. Begin with an observation: What do you notice? I notice aisle after aisle of condiments at the grocery store. We seem to have all these things to put on other things to supposedly make them taste better. And we use words like “accent” or “highlight” to talk about what these things do.


2. Consider the significance of what you’re observing: What does it mean, suggest, point to, reveal? Where else do you notice the phenomenon taking place? What kind of connections can you make?


3. Develop some kind of claim that you can then try to support through specifics:


On America’s Syrup and Dressing Love Affair


We as Americans should stop pretending to like pancakes and salads and toast and other like foods. We don't. They are boring, bland beasts, which exist only so we can eat the things we truly love—i.e., dressing and syrup and jelly and butter and sauce and sauce and sauce. There is nothing desirable about a leaf of lettuce or a piece of wheat bread. Consider how often we as Americans actually pause during work and think to ourselves: “You know, I could really go for some fresh romaine right now.” Or: “I’d kill for one of those thick slices of warm Trader Joe’s multi-grain.” It doesn’t happen. We are a generation of condiment-lovers and sauce-huggers. Places like IHOP and Soup Plantation have been created to allow us to consume that which we long for most—the dressings, the dips, the sauces, the syrups, the jellies and more—outside the comfort and safety of our homes, with friends and family, in communal settings, so we can watch each other indulge in the same habits and thus feel less guilty about the whole endeavor. Were it not so socially unacceptable, we would take shot after shot of warm maple syrup and melted organic apple butter at parties until we passed out.


Our love for ranch dressing, in particular, has become so intense that we've had to make it acceptable to eat with just about anything. I'm thinking mainly of French fries and pizza, of course, but we also dip our buffalo wings and fried zucchini and shrimp quesadillas and our carrot sticks and chicken strips and cucumber slices in ranch dressing. At the Nugget, beside the giant ketchup machine sits a giant ranch machine so the cashiers can work without being interrupted every forty seconds with another side-of-ranch request: “Can I get a side of ranch?” “Hey, man, do you think I could maybe get one more side of ranch for my double bacon ranch burger?” We live for ranch and don’t even think about the absurdity of dipping our Cool Ranch Doritos in Hidden Valley ranch.


How much ranch do we need? Sometimes I wonder if there’s some kind of addictive additive in ranch that’s keeping us all hooked. I wonder we’re all falling asleep and having dreams about bathing in the most elegant of ranch dressings, dreams about throwing away cold creams and Proactiv prescriptions, and moisturizing our entire bodies in tubs of ranch finer than French silk. It’s scary, and yet at the same time, there’s something revealing about our love affair with syrups and dressings. As I’ve come to see it, the only people who are truly “real” and secure with themselves are the ones who'll put down entire tubs of sour cream in front of loved ones, on first dates, and at sushi bars without feeling awkward or wrong. I know a few of these brave souls personally but am confident there are more out there. It’s only a matter of time before we all come out of the closet.